


Chaos and Mischief

by dearmrsawyer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-26
Updated: 2010-02-26
Packaged: 2017-11-26 14:34:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearmrsawyer/pseuds/dearmrsawyer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bobby is woken by a rowdy argument between Sam and Dean downstairs. </p>
<p>Written to the prompt: "He started it!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chaos and Mischief

“Those idjits”,” Bobby growled, a glimpse at the alarm clock by his bed to confirm the unearthly hour. “They’ll pay for this,” he privately threatened, heaving his unrested body out of bed.

Plodding his way across the hall and down the stairs, the voices of Sam and Dean Winchester became ever clearer, and as he approached, Bobby began to hear snippets from around the corner.

“—I swear I don’t know—”

“—There isn’t anyone else around—”

“—So paranoid--!”

Bleary-eyed, the elderly man turned into the lounge room, squinting against the dim light as Sam and Dean squabbled from opposite ends of the couch. 

“Would you stop acting so childish!” Sam roared, towering over his brother, even from a distance. 

Dean seemed unaffected. “I’ll stop acting childish the second you stop acting like a middle-aged uptight school teacher!”

“Hey!” Bobby barked, silencing them swiftly. Their heads mutually snapped in his direction, four eyes flickering to his bare forehead – Bobby was so rarely without a cap.

“Uh... hey, Bobby.” Dean gave half a grin, his eyes darting around the room, one eyebrow raised.

“Don’t ‘hey’ me; you two knuckleheads got any idea what time it is?” He kept his left eye closed in the hope of being able to return to sleep without too much difficulty. Experience told him it was fruitless, but it wouldn’t stop him trying.

“Yeah. Sorry, Bobby.” Sam bowed his head in submission, his body language changing dramatically. Although just as tall, he now seemed so malleable, like an apologetic toddler. Had it been sun-up and he wasn’t sleep deprived, Bobby would’ve ended his rant there.

“What in the hell is going on down here?” 

The two boys shared a bitter glance, before Dean relented his glower and spoke up.

“I came to clean my shotgun half an hour ago. I walk in, and there’s nothing but an empty table, right where I left my weapons. Now how does that just happen?” Dean spread his arm, raising his chin smugly as if he’d proved his point.  
“Dean, I told you a million times: I didn’t take your shogun! Why would I anyway? I have my own.”

“Mine’s better.”

“Judging by how much it looked like it needed that clean, I’d say not,” Sam retorted with a roll of the eyes.

“And that’s what you two are doing? Standing here arguing about a missing gun instead of just putting your hollow heads together and looking for it?”

“I’ll help him find it the second he gives me back my notebook.” Sam said stubbornly, slumping back onto the couch and crossing his arms.

“Your notebook?” Bobby was just not in the mood for this.

“My notebook with all the information for the case we’re on. I’ve compiled all my research into it and now we’re back to square one without it,” Sam explained rapidly, voice fast and eyes unblinking.

“And what are you smirking at, boy?” That smacked the proud grin off Dean’s face. “How’s your pettiness helping?”

Dean swallowed a laugh, dropping his head momentarily to regain his composure. “I only took the notebook to make him loosen up a little. Lose that stick jammed in him. Looks like it backfired and made him more uptight than ever.”

“Stealing my research isn’t punishing me, Dean, it’s punishing the people we’re trying to save.”

“And how are you gonna save ‘em if I’ve got no gun to shoot the thing with?”

“How old are you two?”


End file.
